


Not Even Malfoys Wear Silk to Work

by ringelchen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Christmas, Co-workers, Creature Fic, Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Harry Potter Cooks, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Harry Potter, Secrets, Soulmates, Top Harry Potter, Vampire Harry Potter, Vampires, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veelas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringelchen/pseuds/ringelchen
Summary: Harry invites Draco, his new boss who also happens to be a Veela, to spend Christmas Eve with him. It is supposed to be their first date and Harry wants it to be perfect. However, with him being a new vampire and not knowing a thing about Veelas, problems are bound to occur.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1076
Collections: HP Holiday Mini Fest 2019





	Not Even Malfoys Wear Silk to Work

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HP Holiday Mini Fest 2019. Prompt: It's Harry's first Christmas as a vampire.
> 
> Thanks to my alphas and betas Kelsey and Mars! You guys saved me from having to submit a story I wasn't happy with. Your suggestions made this fic so much better. Love you loads!

Harry had a secret. It wasn't that he had recently been turned into a vampire. No, everyone knew about that, thanks to one Rita Skeeter shoving her nose in his business like always.  _ The Prophet _ had published the details about his attack the following morning, in an article titled "The Tragic Story of the Boy Who Will Never Find Happiness."

Everyone knew that nine months ago, Harry and his Auror partner Susan Bones had been assigned a new case. An abandoned amusement park in Aryshire had recently made the Muggle news when some kids alerted the police after finding a puddle of blood. This, in combination with the recent emergence of a new, dangerous vampire tribe in the south-west of Scotland had immediately alarmed the Ministry of Magic. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been put to the task of finding out whether the abandoned amusement park was the new tribe's hideout. Harry and Susan had been patrolling the area every night fruitlessly for weeks, when one fateful night, they’d been jumped by the vampires in question. 

They’d been caught off guard. Susan had escaped with her life, barely. Harry had not.

Four pairs of fangs had shredded his neck, and Harry had been turned into a vampire. It was a devastating blow of fate because after the war, Harry had started to think that maybe he’d finally be able to be happy, maybe it was finally his turn to find his rightful place in the world, with a partner by his side. Maybe even children of his own. But vampires couldn’t have children. They didn’t have family. 

During that time of depression and loneliness, Draco Malfoy had come into Harry’s life. 

And  _ that  _ was precisely Harry’s secret: Draco Malfoy. Or rather, his feelings for Draco Malfoy.

“Are you sure, Harry? The ferret?” Ron asked him for the hundredth time, his usually red hair shimmering green in the flames of Harry’s Floo. “I mean, I guess he’s not a complete shite anymore, but, mate, that doesn’t mean you have to canoodle him.” 

Ok, maybe it wasn’t a very  _ well kept _ secret.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to  _ canoodle  _ him, Ron. It’s our first date. I’ll be lucky if I get to kiss him.”

Ron’s face showed his disgust, but before he could say anything else, Hermione’s head appeared next to his, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Harry, don’t listen to Ron. You and Draco will make a lovely couple. We’re all rooting for you,” she said, after which Harry could hear supportive cheers from a few other Weasleys who were all assembled at The Burrow for Christmas Eve.

“Thanks, ‘Mione.” 

Even before there was a knock on his door, Harry could smell him, a familiar shiver running through his body. 

“Fuck, he’s here,” Harry said to his friends before there was a sudden rap against his front door. Harry immediately felt nervous, like he’d forgotten something. Had he used the cologne Hermione had owled him for his birthday that she’d said she was sure would smell good on him? Had he taken the sauce off the stove so it didn’t get too thick? “I have to go, guys.”

“Good luck, Harry. And Merry Christmas,” Hermione said, giving him another encouraging smile. 

Ron looked a little less happy when he said, “Merry Christmas, mate. You’ll be missed here.” 

His words hit Harry harder than he had thought possible, a lump forming in his throat that made him unable to say anything back.

Truth be told, Christmas hadn’t meant anything to Harry for a long time. The Dursleys had done their best to exclude Harry from their extravagant celebrations, and during his years at Hogwarts, though Harry had started to understand what people liked to call ‘ _ Christmas spirit _ ’, it never occurred to him that Christmas was something that had anything to do with  _ him _ . Like birthdays and other joyful celebrations, Christmas had always felt like it was something that belonged to other people. Everyone  _ but  _ Harry. 

Harry had never felt  _ jolly  _ or missed the holidays as soon as they were over, like Ron, who sorrowed after cookies, gingerbread and other holiday treats, or Hermione, who wore her reindeer-printed scarf, hat, and gloves well into February. No, to Harry, Christmas had always been just another day, at least until school and the war ended. The Weasleys had insisted he join them for Christmas every year after, and for the first time in his life, Harry had the opportunity to really experience the holiday. After spending a few worry-free—or rather, Voldemort-free—Christmases with the Weasleys, Harry had come to refer to himself as an  _ admirer  _ of the holiday. Which was why Harry had been devastated to find out that he wouldn’t be able to spend this Christmas with the Weasleys.

_ New  _ vampires, Harry had learned, could not be around humans. For the first few years, they tended to be very sensitive to the smell of blood. A small cut on one’s finger or even a tiny wound on the gums would be enough for Harry to go feral. Whenever he was around humans, even after nine months, Harry’s instincts still screamed he’d starve to death if he didn’t get to drink from one of them. He had a constant urge to bite, an infinite thirst for blood. This consequently meant that spending a whole day with the Weasleys was out of the question in his current state.

It also meant that he hadn’t seen most of them since early spring, when he’d been turned. It meant that Harry missed them so much, his heart felt like it was breaking a little more every day he couldn’t be with them.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, worry in her voice.

“Yes. Sorry,” he replied, fighting back the tears. “I miss you too. Merry Christmas.”

There were shouts coming from the Weasleys, wishing Harry good luck, wonderful holidays, and a nice satisfying shag, but before Harry could shout back at them, the connection was broken and Hermione and Ron’s faces were gone.

Another knock sounded, this time louder, and Harry ran to the door. After drying the tears from the corners of his eyes and inhaling and exhaling deeply once more, he reached for the doorknob and opened it. 

Before Harry saw the figure standing on his doorstep, he felt frosty wind tickle his face. Snow had fallen on this very special day.

Draco’s brows were already arched in question, though Harry hadn’t even said anything yet. 

“For a second there, I thought you weren’t home.” Draco eyed Harry up and down, probably taking in that he’d dressed up for the occasion. After all, Harry never usually wore dress shirts, not to mention a pair of red braces with a matching bowtie. Draco was obviously checking him out, and Harry felt a bit nervous until his guest’s lips curled into an amused smile and Draco asked, “Are you not going to invite me in?”

“Right!” Harry stammered, exited that Draco had really come. Not that he’d thought that Draco would go back on his word, but it still felt unreal to have him over for Christmas Eve when Harry knew for a fact that Draco usually did not date. As far as Harry knew, Draco had never dated after that floozy Parkinson at Hogwarts. Because, like Harry, Draco also had a secret. “Please, come in! Let me take your coat.”

Draco Malfoy, much to Harry’s surprise, was part-Veela.

It wasn’t a secret per sé, Harry realised, but very few people knew, and Draco tried to keep it that way. After all, it had taken Harry months to find out about it even though they’d been closely working together the whole time as Draco taught Harry how to do his new job.

It hadn’t come as a shock to Harry when Kingsley visited him in the hospital after he’d been turned and told him that vampires were not allowed to be Aurors. “You’re being transferred to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Kingsley had said with a sad smile. Harry assumed he’d been trying to hide the fact that he was angry about losing one of his best men, that he knew how devastated Harry would be too lose the one thing in his life that he’d felt he was doing right. 

But what could Harry have done at that point? 

Hermione had made a whole fit about it, of course, threatened to  _ read into it _ and do everything in her power to change the Ministry’s backwards rules, but Harry had been too tired, too devastated, too depressed to even put up a fight. So he started working at the DRCMC after his month spent in the hospital and two more at home for further recovery. And to Harry’s surprise, his boss had turned out to be none other than Draco Malfoy.

And, unbelievably, Draco Malfoy had turned out to be  _ pleasant _ . Friendly even. On Harry’s first day, Draco had welcomed Harry to the team with a professional smile. He’d personally showed Harry around the department and introduced him to his new coworkers. He’d given Harry his daily blood substitutes, provided him with his personal joke-of-the-day calendar that everyone in the department kept on their desks, and brought Harry a cup of tea. 

The whole day, Draco hadn’t made a single comment or snarky remark about their past. Draco had been perfectly courteous, which is why Harry, feeling utterly confused, had stopped by his office on the way home that day and asked, “So, Malfoy, are we just going to keep pretending to be all chummy chummy?”

He could have phrased it less feistily, Harry realised that now. Draco, being the pointy git he was, had just raised his brows and said, “We could. Or we could just leave the past behind us and act like adults. We are going to be spending a lot of time together, Harry. I would think it’d be much more comfortable for the both of us if we buried the hatchet and agreed to be friendly towards each other. Don’t you think?” He’d extended his hand then, waiting for Harry to take it. It reminded Harry of one of their first encounters where he’d made the decision to not take his hand, a decision he sometimes regretted.

At a loss of what to say, Harry had stared at him, dumbstruck, for a few seconds before he decided that with his new identity, his new job, and losing contact with all of his friends, Harry really didn’t have the energy to keep their childish rivalry going. So, with unsure fingers, he’d taken Draco’s hand. “To a new start.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Draco said as he stepped into Harry’s home for the first time. Something about Draco taking that step, the door closing behind him, made Harry feel like this was a huge moment for the two of them. It made him feel like Draco trusted him.

“I hope you’re hungry. I’ve cooked enough to feed a small army.”

Harry hung Draco’s coat and then gestured for Draco to lead the way into the eat-in kitchen where Harry had set the table. He’d gone all out, ordered a bunch of Christmas decorations as well as a new set of holiday china, which had an overall white design, its edges adorned with illustrations of delicate mistletoe and Christmas berries. It was the kind of design the Dursleys would have hated because it was too childish, and the kind of dishware the Weasleys would never purchase because one could never trust the twins with expensive china. But they were perfect for Harry, and he watched Draco nervously for any kind of reaction concerning his choice of table decoration.

Draco didn’t look at the china or at any of the decorations Harry had spent too much time placing around his house when he entered the kitchen. Instead, he looked at the kitchen stove with its various sized pots and pans bubbling and sizzling. His eyebrows arched again, which Harry had learned to read as rather a sign of surprise or confusion than contempt or judgement as he’d initially thought.

“You cooked?” Draco asked finally, his mouth forming a confused ‘ _ o _ .’

“Of course,” Harry replied, wondering why Draco was so surprised—especially given that he had literally just told Draco that he’d cooked.“It’s Christmas Eve. One usually eats goose on Christmas Eve.”

Draco turned to him then, pointedly. “You made a whole goose? Just for me?”

“Well, and myself,” Harry said as he patted his own stomach, but it wasn’t like he didn’t get what Draco was playing at. Vampires didn’t usually eat because they didn’t have to, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t. Harry’s tastebuds were perfectly intact, and he still enjoyed the occasional piece of treacle tart or cup of strong espresso, even if he didn’t need to eat or drink anything except blood substitutes to survive. The existence of blood substitutes was one of the only reasons why Harry wasn’t going completely mad about having been turned into a vampire, because as much as his instincts told him to drink blood, Harry _ the person _ could never do that to another person. Treat them as food, that was. So when the healers at St Mungos had told Harry that he would be able to get all his necessary nutrients from those tiny red capsules, it had been a huge relief, a ray of hope after his horrible attack.

“Nothing is going to stop me from enjoying food, Malfoy,” Harry said with a smirk. Harry knew that whenever he called Draco by his surname, they would fall back into the familiar pattern of exchanging snarky remarks and challenging banter—just like those they’d thrown at each other in the corridors or across the Great Hall at Hogwarts. But now, compared to the bitter aftertaste such encounters had left during their adolescence, Harry felt they meant something completely different. 

Just as expected, a tiny smirk appeared on Draco's lips when he said, "Of course, how could I think the boy who spent every meal in the Great Hall shoveling food into his mouth like a starving lion would ever stop eating. My apologies, Potter."

Harry barked out a laugh before he concluded, a slight purr to his voice, "This only proves that even back in school you couldn't take your eyes off me, Malfoy."

And then there was silence, except for the soft music Harry had put on. It played quietly in the background, not drowning out the sizzle from the saucepan that Harry realised he  _ had  _ forgotten to take off the burner, which he definitely needed to. As he did, he wondered whether Draco was going to break the silence with another flirty comment.

Draco did that a lot. Flirt with Harry, that was. Of course at first, when Harry had just started working at the DRCMC, Draco’d been completely professional, and even if he’d invited Harry to have tea with him every now and then, he had never come on to him or made any remarks that Harry might have taken as flirtation. However, since being transferred, Draco had been a pillar of emotional support for Harry. Harry’s struggles with his new identity must have been obvious to his former classmate; he’d reassured Harry from day one that just because he was a vampire, it didn’t mean he’d not be able to enjoy his life anymore. Draco had taught him a lot besides how to do his new job. He'd saved Harry from reading the dozens of vampire books Hermione had owled over to Grimmauld Place by teaching him about the creatures over a cup of tea. Harry had found it strange at first, that Draco, a pureblood who had grown up with the belief that magical creatures were beneath wizards, knew so much about them and was so keen to help him out. 

However, it had all made sense when Harry had figured out Draco was part-Veela. Only one eighth to be precise, but there was still enough Veela blood in him to make his life more difficult than that of a  _ normal  _ wizard. It had forced him to register as part-creature with the Ministry when he’d come into his Veela-inheritance at age 18.

It was the reason Draco didn't casually date, Harry had been told by Draco himself over a cuppa just a couple months back. "Veelas, you see, aren't really interested in having relations with anyone but their one true love," Draco had phrased it carefully but then shrugged his shoulders, feigning disinterest, and changed the subject. Harry hadn't asked him about it again that day, but Draco's words did prove to be true when Harry witnessed not one, not two, but three people over the course of the following two weeks ask Draco out and be rejected. 

"Aren't you at least a tiny bit interested in getting to know them?" Harry had asked after witnessing the third failed proposition and wondering why he suddenly didn't like Stuard from pay-roll anymore. Harry had watched the man with angry eyes as he walked back into his office with slumped shoulders. 

"I don't date Harry, I think I already told you that." Draco had sounded a bit annoyed which Harry knew didn't mean much because Draco felt annoyed a lot. Especially when he had to repeat himself. "Victor Krum or Oliver Wood could confess their feelings to me and it wouldn't change a thing. I'm just not interested in anybody but my true love, no matter how good looking they are." 

Harry had felt that weird tingle in his chest for the first time then, felt like it had to mean something that Draco had chosen to name two guys instead of girls. Harry still never really thought about the consequences of his words, so he'd said, while wiggling his eyebrows, "Krum and Wood, huh? You got a thing for Quidditch players?" 

Draco hadn't stopped walking but he'd been surprised by Harry talking to him like that. Actually, Harry had been surprised as well the moments those words left his lips. Up until then, Draco and Harry might have been friendly, but they'd not been…  _ that _ friendly. 

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Draco had said, from next to Harry, "Only the hot ones," and then he'd eyed Harry up and down before turning away with a smirk. It had left Harry wondering why in the world his heart was suddenly beating hard in his chest.

After that, their relationship had started to change. First slowly, only making itself noticeable by the occasional smirk or inappropriate double entendre. But soon, they had started to exchange stolen glances and smiles, went out of their way to visit each other’s offices, and even initiated physical contact of fingers while passing documents or cups to each other or by resting hands on shoulders while looking over each other’s work. Or at least, Harry had done all of these things, and whenever Draco did them, they felt intentional to Harry, definitely not like something he had ever seen him do with anybody but him.

At the same time, in some situations Harry felt like Draco deliberately tried to  _ not _ flirt with him, held himself back. Harry couldn't really say why that was, but he suspected that Draco didn't want to give off the wrong signal or make Harry think his flirting had a deeper meaning than it actually had. The last two employees of their department who'd fallen for Draco had both quit after being rejected, and as a boss, Draco probably didn't want to be responsible for losing any more of his employees. 

But Harry and Draco still flirted a lot.  _ If _ this even was flirting. Harry had been told by a number of friends that he was rather oblivious when it came to that stuff. Which was why despite Draco having agreed to spend Christmas Eve with him, Harry had no idea what it actually meant.

But he hoped it meant  _ something _ .

The silence lasted too long, and Harry would have thought he'd made Draco uncomfortable if it wasn't for the twitch at the side of Draco's mouth that told Harry he was trying to suppress a smirk.

“That’s an interesting selection of Christmas music.” Draco finally broke the silence after the song had changed, referring to the mix tape of Celestina Warbeck, Blodwyn Bludd, and traditional as well as modern Muggle holiday songs.

Draco had one hand in his long blond hair, fingers running through the ends of his braided ponytail. He looked around the rest of the room, noticing the Christmas decorations and touching one of the pinecones Harry had put between the plates. “I’m guessing you really like Christmas?”

With a smile, Harry replied, “It’s my favourite holiday. What about you?”

Harry motioned for Draco to sit down at the table and he did, though not before swishing his robes to the side in a flashy fashion, as if he was trying to catch Harry’s attention on purpose. After having taken his seat, Draco pulled at the fabric a few times so that it lay wrinkle-free on his body.

“We never really celebrated Christmas at the Manor,” Draco said shortly and Harry was unable to hide the surprise from his face. Without Harry even having to ask why that was, Draco went on. “We celebrated New Years, you see. Like most proper pretend-purebloods,” he added that with a small smirk. “I would have hardly been able to meet you today if there was a big Malfoy tradition around Christmas.”

True as that was, Harry hadn’t even thought about Draco being otherwise occupied. After all, his father was in Azkaban and his mother had died years ago. He’d thought that Draco would be free for sure since he didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. 

Harry noticed that Draco was looking up at him a little pointedly, probably waiting for him to sit down as well. Before he could do that, Harry said, “Let me get you some mulled wine. I made it myself.”

Harry moved towards the stove where he scooped wine spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and oranges into two festive goblets that had come with the china set. He handed one to Draco and finally sat down himself, wine in hand. He watched Draco take a long sniff from his own goblet and moan, “It smells heavenly.”

Draco took a sip and his face flushed. His eyes closed, and Harry imagined Draco moving the liquid around in his mouth to spread the warmth and spicy flavour.

“Is this your first time drinking mulled wine?”

Draco swallowed and said, “Yes, it is. But I can assure you, it won’t be my last.” He took another sip and spoke with wine in his mouth. “This is exquisite.”

Harry told him he was glad he’d assumed correctly that Draco would love the sweet beverage. After all, he had recently found out that Veelas as a group had a huge sweet tooth, and Draco adored red wine. Thus, the combination of the two was bound to be a hit.

“Wow, logical thinking. Who would have thought that you were good for more than just brute strength and looking pretty,” Draco said in his serious voice, however, his flirty smirk was back and Harry’s heart started to beat a bit faster. Only ten minutes into the date but Harry thought it was already going quite well.

“Are you hungry yet?” Harry asked nervously, though he knew it would have been a good opportunity to keep flirting and maybe get closer to his goal for the night: to kiss Draco. But they hadn’t even started eating yet, maybe he should slow it down a bit.

“To be honest, I ate before I came over because I didn’t expect you’d be serving me a meal,” Draco admitted then and Harry, who had already stood and walked towards the oven, turned around in shock.

“But it’s Christmas Eve.” For Harry that meant eating, together. 

“It is. But when you invited me you said we’d go over the Newborn Werewolf Project together. I didn’t expect that we'd be—” Draco gestured around the kitchen, “— _ celebrating _ together.”

Only then did Harry notice Draco’s briefcase by the side of the table. He also remembered how nervous he’d been when he had asked Draco out a week ago during their department’s Christmas party. He’d been awkward around Draco the whole day because he’d planned to ask him out for weeks but had been too chicken to do it up until then. And with the party being the last time he’d see Draco before taking his Christmas vacation, Harry hadn’t had much time left to make his move if he wanted to see Draco again before the New Year—which Harry really really did. After Draco had approached him for conversation for the third time that evening, Harry had finally mustered up the courage to ask him out. Only he hadn’t exactly said ‘ _ Hey Draco, do you want to go on a date with me on Christmas Eve?’  _ Instead, he’d babbled on about how he didn’t have any plans for the holiday yet and added in nervous laughter ‘ _ So why don’t you join me on Christmas Eve?’ _ and then, after seeing Draco’s stunned expression, he’d said, like a fucking idiot, ‘ _ I have some questions regarding the new project _ .’

It finally sunk in then. Draco thought he was here for work. He didn’t know that this was a date. Of course, he wouldn't have come if he had known. Draco didn't date after all.

It was hard for Harry not to show his emotions on his face, but he tried not to look as disappointed and stupid as he felt, because Draco was still sitting there, looking at him with his annoyingly perfect brows drawn up, waiting for Harry to say something.

“Right. The, er, Mermaid project.”

“Werewolf,” Draco corrected.

“Werewolf project. Yes. I do have some questions for you concerning, er, that,” Harry said, thinking how smooth he was and that this was probably exactly what Hermione meant every time she made a comment about Harry not being able to express himself very well.

“We can discuss it after dinner, then. Don’t worry, Potter. I’ll eat,” Draco said and the way his whole face barely moved, expect for the wrinkle between this brows, reminded Harry of Draco's concerned expression, a rather rare occurrence for his former school rival.

Whatever it meant, though, Harry didn't trust himself to make a guess anymore. Because apparently, he’d been wrong about what this day meant as well. If Harry couldn't even tell a date from a work-meeting, maybe Draco being friendly had just been for the sake of being… friendly. Maybe none of it had been flirting or meant anything. After all, the one thing Harry knew for sure was that Draco didn't date…

He'd been cooking for hours. Decorated his place so carefully. Gone crazy over what outfit to wear. Lain awake anxious about today. For a person who  _ didn't date _ . What the hell had Harry been thinking?

Harry realised he hadn’t moved or said anything in way too long for it to not be weird and Draco was starting to tap the tip of his boot against the ground nervously. So, to ease the tension, despite feeling like anything he could say would sound either stupid, nervous, or ridiculous, Harry forced the words out.

“I’m a great cook, Draco. I’m sure you won’t regret it.” Harry smiled, forced as well, of course, because the only thing Harry felt like doing was giving up. 

He turned around, facing the stove and stretching his hands out to make Draco’s empty plate fly into his open palm. Harry knew then that he'd ruined the mood because Draco didn’t say anything; he usually always made fun of Harry for doing wandless and wordless magic. During work, he'd say something along the lines of ‘ _ Showing off again, are we, Potter?’ _ Sometimes, when they were alone, he'd even lean against the wall, hold the back of his hand against his forehead while saying, like a damsel in distress, ‘ _ Oh my hero, your powerful magic makes me shiver all over!’  _ after which he'd burst out laughing, and Harry would stare at him, trying to save that memory in his head because he'd never seen something more beautiful.

When Draco didn’t say anything this time, though, Harry felt like crying.

Nevertheless, he tried to make the best of it, giving Draco only the best parts of the meat and adding some brussel sprouts, roasted chestnuts, and cranberry sauce on the side. He covered everything in the perfectly thick and meaty sauce that made his mouth water at the sight of it. 

This time without magic, Harry walked over to put the plate down in front of Draco. As much as he didn’t want Draco to see his devastated expression, he still wanted to see Draco’s reaction. Harry knew his cooking skills were rather impressive and it was the first time he was showing them off to Draco. He wanted to know what kind of face he’d make upon realising that Harry was good for much more than just  _ brute strength and being pretty _ —as Draco had put it.

At first, Draco didn’t look at the plate. He was staring at Harry intensely, and the way he opened and closed his mouth made Harry think he was about to say something, but he must have thought twice of it. When Draco finally looked at his plate, his eyes went wide.

“This looks spectacular.” Like he’d done with the wine, Draco bent down a little to take a sniff first, his nostrils flaring as he took in the different spices Harry had added. “Do I smell liquorice?”

“It’s in the filling.” Harry knew that Draco loved liquorice so he’d spent days perfecting the filing even though, to be quite honest, Harry wasn’t the biggest fan of the salty black treat. “It’s rather subtle though. I’m surprised you can tell from just the smell.”

“Oh, Harry,” Draco smirked then, tilting his head, “don’t you know Veelas have an extraordinary sense of smell? Especially when it comes to scents that attract them.” Draco’s nostrils flared once again before his eyes wandered down Harry’s body and up again. He was smirking, still.

Only then did Harry realise, as Draco was looking him up and down, that he was smelling  _ him _ .

“And do you like it?” Harry asked. It wasn’t clear what he meant, the liquorish or something else, but the way that they were looking at each other, Draco pausing for effect, made Harry want to bet all of the gold in his vaults that they were talking about the same thing.

“I do. But it’s different than usual, isn’t it?”

For a moment Harry didn’t know what he meant, until he remembered having put on his new cologne and he blushed hard. So Draco was really talking about Harry. 

_ Scents that attract them,  _ he’d said.

Alright, so maybe Draco hadn’t come here thinking this was a date, but they were still flirting. This  _ was _ flirting, wasn't it? Harry didn't think he was  _ that _ oblivious. 

“It’s supposed to be the same for vampires, actually,” Draco added before Harry had even had the chance to think of a flirty comeback, a chance to figure out what to do now and where this night was leading. “Haven’t you noticed that scents are more prominent now than before? It’s the creature part of you. Your eyesight should be better as well, which is why you’ve stopped wearing glasses, isn't it?” 

“Right!” Harry said then, remembering what his healer had told him when he’d visited him a few months ago, complaining about his old glasses giving him headaches. “But my heightened sense of smell only applies to blood, unfortunately.” And then Harry did it—sniffed the air that was filled with the delicious scent of his cooking. It was overpowered by the sweet and fruity smell of Draco, though, something that Harry smelled all the time when Draco was close to him. In the beginning, Harry thought it must be the cologne Draco wore, but after a while, Harry had realised that it was just very specifically Draco that smelled this delicious. Unlike other people or creatures, the scent of Draco’s blood was always strong, always made Harry a little weak in the knees whenever he smelled it for the first time that day. 

Finally, Draco gestured to Harry’s still-empty plate and asked him to fetch himself some food as well so they could start eating.

At first, they ate in silence, the only sounds filling the air the soft Christmas music, the sounds of silverware on plates or scraping against each other. From time to time Draco let out a small moan to show how much he liked the food. Harry could hardly concentrate on his food at all, completely focused on the way Draco was devouring his. He’d said that he’d already eaten but Harry couldn’t tell at all. The way that Draco was digging into his plate gave the impression that he’d been starving. And the smile on his face...

Harry stopped eating, still a bit of chestnut on his tongue as he watched Draco intensely. He had never seen him eat like this, though he’d seen him eat often, whenever they’d shared some tea and biscuits in Draco’s office.

Draco was practically inhaling the food, even after he was done, making sure to get every drop, every tiny piece of meat from his fork and knife, sucking on them in a rather sloppy fashion. His pink tongue poked out to lick at the dirty knife and then—Harry made a sound in disbelief—he picked up the plate and started licking it clean.

Completely scandalised, though not specifically in a bad way, just in a very confused way, Harry watched him. He’d seen people do this, in the Great Hall or every now and then at the Burrow when he was invited over for dinner, but he’d never seen Draco Malfoy do it. Hell, he’d never seen Draco Malfoy do  _ anything _ that could be considered impolite. But Harry wasn’t imagining it; Draco was licking his plate with gusto.

It seemed like forever before Draco was done and put down the plate again, licking his smiling lips before he looked up at Harry.

They stared at each other, Harry with wide eyes, Draco smiling. At first. But Harry could see the moment that Draco realised what he’d been caught doing.

“Oh no,” Draco breathed and then his face went from pale white to bright red in only a few embarrassing seconds. “Wait. I—” he stammered, and if it was even possible, Harry’s eyes went wider at this other unexpected side of Draco. “That wasn’t me. It was the Veela. You know that, right? I would never—” he paused, inhaling and then almost shouting, “—never behave like that.”

“It’s okay, Draco,” Harry said, though he was still in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. “I’m glad you like my cooking.”

“No, that’s not it,” Draco said with a strong voice, putting a hand to his forehead. “Not that I didn’t like your food. It was delicious! But I wouldn’t do something like that. It was the Veela, you realise, don’t you? I’m usually very well-controlled, it’s just that you made me a home-cooked meal and the Veela part of me just felt like it was—” Draco was stammering again, “—a sign of love. Of course  _ I _ , Draco Malfoy, realise that it wasn’t  _ that _ .  _ We  _ are not like that.” And then, as if he’d finally noticed that he was making an arse out of himself again, Draco pressed his mouth closed, biting his bottom lip to shut himself up.

Harry still only stared at him, completely dumbstruck, flabbergasted at what he had just witnessed. Draco Malfoy losing his cool. Something Harry would have bet a lot of money on, the other man would never let him witness. He’d have thought Hermione claiming books were boring was more likely.

Feelings of surprise were suddenly replaced by a starving hunger when Harry smelled something, something he shouldn’t be smelling. His fangs extended and he flinched in shock as as an unintentional growl sounded in the back of his throat.

At the sound, Draco looked puzzled, though of course the blush hadn’t left his cheeks. Harry had to act fast, say something to prevent an awful accident. Thankfully, Draco licked his lips before anything worse could happen, tasting the blood he had drawn from biting his lip too hard. He seemed to understand immediately why Harry was reacting the way he was and moved into action. He rushed towards the sink to wash away the blood and used his fingertip to cast some healing magic on the small cut to close it. Instantly, Harry could relax again, his fangs retracting, leaving just the shame such loss of self control brought with it.

“Sorry about that,” he started. This time it was him who wouldn’t dare to look his opposite in the eyes. “It’s still really hard for me sometimes,” Harry explained. Though he knew Draco would understand, wouldn’t judge or be afraid of him, it still felt like he’d done something wrong, made an already uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable. 

Unexpectedly, Draco snorted and Harry dared to look up at him. “After what I just did, you really don’t have to apologise for not being able to control your instincts, Harry,” Draco said in a drawl from where he was leaning against the sink with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked smaller than usual, embarrassed, but a little less so than earlier. His complexion was back to milky pale, a relaxed expression on his face.

They shared a glance and Harry opened his mouth to apologise again, when Draco burst into laughter, letting his head fall back. For a second, Harry thought that he his face must have looked funny but it didn’t take him long to understand that what Draco was laughing about was their situation. About how ridiculous they were being.

As he watched Draco laugh, loud and free, Harry couldn’t help but join in. He recalled Draco’s happy face as he had licked his plate, like a small boy tasting ice cream for the first time.

“I swear, Potter, if you ever tell anybody about this,” Draco managed to say amidst laughter and dried tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He didn’t finish the sentence but his threat had been communicated successfully. Harry moved his fingers like a zip in front of his mouth and gestured tossing a key away to promise eternal silence.

After they had both calmed down, Draco made his way to the table again, sitting down in front of Harry, the corner of his mouth twitching at the sight of his shiny clean plate. “This day has not been going how I imagined at all,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Harry, before bringing his mulled wine to his lips.

“Right, you came here for  _ work _ ,” Harry reacted and couldn’t help but snort at the misunderstanding. How stupid he’d been.

Draco swallowed and then moved the goblet in a circular motion to swirl the wine around it. He was back to his usual self, Harry could tell. All sophisticated and pretentiously  _ proper _ . In full control of his appearance. 

“Not really,” Draco finally said and then looked at Harry pointedly. “I knew that this was supposed to be a date. I’m not  _ stupid _ , Potter.”

If there was a good way to react to this confession, Harry didn’t know it. So he barked, “What?” His heart was back to beating much too fast. This time not because of the smell of blood but because of the sudden realisation that no, he hadn’t been stupid after all. He hadn’t been an idiot. The only idiot here was Draco for playing with his feelings. “But you said that—”

“I wanted to tease you. You look cute when you’re confused.” He took another sip, eyeing Harry from the side, probably taking in his shocked expression. “I apologise, I didn’t think you would take it so hard,” he explained. 

His apology didn’t really sound sincere, though Harry could see that he meant it in the way that Draco was suddenly trying to prevent eye-contact again. Draco might have become a much better person over the past few years, but he was still rubbish at apologies, completely useless at owning up to shit he’d done. Draco was an utter git. A cunning Slytherin from head to toe. And still, Harry’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest because Draco found him cute and he’d agreed to go on a date with Harry—on purpose!

“I mean, Harry, please,” Draco said then, his lips twitching as if he knew what Harry was thinking. As if he knew how fucking crazy Harry was about him. So crazy that he wouldn’t even get angry at him having lied. “Didn’t you notice that I’m wearing silk robes? Not even Malfoys wear silk to work.”

“Like I would notice the fabric of your fucking robes, Draco,” Harry said in a laugh, pointing at Draco’s body. Harry was too excited to hide his feelings and he didn’t care. “You could literally be wearing Death Eater robes, and I wouldn’t have noticed and  _ still  _ wanted to bend you over this table and have my wicked way with you.”

Draco didn’t reply while he looked at Harry, his jaw suddenly tense and eyes harsh. Only then did Harry realise what he had said. He blushed, trying to correct his mistake.

“Or you can bend  _ me  _ over the table. I’m not picky like that.”

There was another small pause in which Draco seemed to try to read Harry’s expression, but then, unexpectedly, a snort came from his opposite before he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That’s really not what bothered me about what you just said, Potter, but alright. Good to know.” He looked a little relieved as Harry gave him a crooked smile, thankful that Draco wasn’t going to pick on Harry for his confession that he wanted to do very naughty things to him.

Harry was starting to calm a little from the initial excitement of Draco’s confession and now wanting to go on with the date—though he realised that he still didn’t know what this meant, as Draco didn’t date—he asked, “Another round, or are you ready for dessert?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the double meaning of his question. 

Draco said, “Dessert sounds marvellous,” using the same fake, husky voice that Harry had, and Harry felt his gaze follow him as he went to open the fridge to retrieve two plates with two individual Christmas puddings.

Draco’s eyes lit up at the sight of the traditional english treat Harry had prepared, but Harry bit his lip, not laughing or saying anything, even though his tongue was tickling with desire to tease Draco about his earlier moment of weakness when he’d licked the plate. Harry put the puddings down, filled up their goblets with more mulled wine, and then they started eating.

The moan that escaped Draco this time was dangerously close to what Harry imagined he would sound like in the bedroom. It made him almost flinch in his seat as the sound went directly to his cock.

“Harry, your food, it’s—” Draco didn’t pause for effect or to think, he paused because he was chewing again, on another spoonful of pudding he had shoved into his mouth mid-speech, “—it’s making me wonder how in the world I’ll ever eat anything else again.”

“Is this Draco talking or the Veela?” Harry asked with a smile, knowing he was closing in on dangerous territory, but Draco didn’t even seem to care as he was so busy indulging in the pudding.

“Both. Definitely both.”

Draco continued to shovel while Harry decided to only eat a few spoonfuls so that when Draco was done he could offer him the rest of Harry’s portion as well. When Draco had finished his own dessert, he took hold of the plate again, but stopped himself, arms tense and face flinching.

“You really wanna lick that plate, don’t you?” Harry grinned and Draco nodded but he still didn’t move the plate closer to his face, just stared at it, one eyelid twitching. “How about you eat the rest of mine first and if you still want more I will excuse myself to the toilet and you can lick the plates clean while I’m gone,” Harry suggested. Draco looked at him then, his eyes shimmering with something that Harry thought was part gratitude and part… something Harry really wanted to be a sign that this whole Draco-doesn’t-date bullocks didn’t apply to Harry.

Because that’s what this meant, right? Draco having agreed to go on a date with Harry—on Christmas Eve, above all!—meant that, technically, he was alright with dating Harry. It meant that Harry was different than those other people Draco had rejected. Even if he wasn’t his one true love. 

Harry felt a sudden surge of uneasiness again, as he watched Draco gobble up the second portion of Christmas pudding much faster than the first and then watched Draco lean back in his chair, looking at the two empty plates of pudding in front of himself.

“Potter, was this your plan? Make me eat so much so that I couldn’t run away?”

“Why would you want to run away?” Harry asked, though of course he knew that Draco was just referring to the fact that he had eaten way too much and was feeling rather full. Harry told him that he’d fetch him a stomach potion from the bathroom—and while he did, he tried to kick the unhappy feelings he was having in the butt. When he came back, both plates were licked clean and shiny again. Harry bit his lip to hide a grin but Draco caught him and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me, Potter. This is all your fault in the first place.”

“How is you not being able to control yourself my fault?” Harry laughed in disbelief and put the potion in front of Draco who quickly uncorked it and downed it in a second.

“You’re the one who prepared a loving meal for a Veela. You know we are weak towards love and food. Especially sweets.” He motioned at the two dessert plates.

“Right, you said that before,” Harry remembered and sat down again. This time he felt like it was the right moment to ask, so he did. “Why would me cooking have such an effect on you, though?”

He was sweating nervously as he waited for Draco’s reply. Because maybe it would answer some of the questions Harry didn’t have the courage to ask.  _ Can you fall in love with me even if I’m not your one true love? Who is your one true love? Could you ever be happy with me? Can I become your one true love if I try very hard?  _

Harry was aware that he didn’t know much about Veelas. He’d only been working at the DRCMC for a few months and wasn’t even done learning everything there was to learn about vampires and their business. So obviously, he hadn't yet had the time to really get into other creatures. Veelas especially were still a mystery to him because there was always a lot of false information going around about them. Draco had told him in the first few weeks of them working together that he should forget everything he thought he knew about Veelas because it was probably a load of bollocks.

“Well,” Draco breathed and looked like he didn’t even know where to start. “It’s a little hard to explain when you don’t have all the information.”

“Do you have someplace to be?” Harry asked and put his forearms on the table, making himself visibly comfortable. He felt like he’d explode if he didn’t find out if they had a future. If Draco was even capable of wanting him the way that Harry wanted Draco. “I mean, you could just give me all the information now. I didn’t have anything further planned for the night.”

Draco seemed to consider how much he wanted to share with Harry, their eyes fixed on each other. Then one side of his mouth pulled up and he grasped his goblet before standing up and motioning towards the door. 

“Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable.”

Rather surprised at Draco’s sudden willingness to share this with him but more than happy and relieved, Harry quickly lead the way to the living room where the fireplace was heating the room, shedding light on the cozy, red loveseat right in front of it.

Harry had completely refurbished Grimmauld Place since he’d turned. He’d had a lot of time after leaving the hospital, the time he’d always claimed he didn’t have to turn this always-gloomy house into a place he’d be able to call home. Also, there had been many changes he needed to make for his new  _ lifestyle _ . One of them was making sure to shut all of the natural light out while keeping the place bright enough so Harry wouldn’t fall into depression due to the lack of light. 

Vampires burning or turning into ashes in sunlight were of course, just like many rumours about Veelas, completely made-up and exaggerated. Harry could, like any other living being, look into the sun without immediately dying. However, in the long run the sun did hurt his skin. Vampires were generally advised to not spend more than a few hours outside or in a place with natural sunlight. The burns wouldn’t be pretty, so he had been told. Harry had yet to experience it.

“Who chose your furniture?” Draco asked, running a finger over the white faux fur blanket that was draped over their seating arrangements.

“Hermione,” Harry replied before pointing at the few odd-looking pieces of art, mostly sculptures of different kinds of deformed animals. “And Luna.”

Draco’s face flinched as he took in the noodle-shaped bunny figure Luna had gifted him when he’d moved in after Hogwarts. Everything else seemed to be to his liking though, and as he moved around a little more, touching picture frames that held the few photography he had of his parents and some of his friends, Draco said quietly, “It’s homy,” as if he was surprised that it was. Surprised that he liked Harry’s place. After he was done looking around, Draco let himself fall gracefully into the soft cushions of the loveseat. Harry copied him, delighted that Draco seemed to be feeling comfortable at Grimmauld Place. They put their goblets of mulled wine on the small table between the loveseat and the fire. As Harry looked over at Draco, who was still curiously glancing all over the room, he felt a warm kind of bliss fill him up so that it almost, but sadly not completely, covered-up the fear of what Draco could possibly be about to tell him. Harry’s foot tapped in scared anticipation, so he pulled it up to sit on it.

They were pretty close; there was maybe ten centimeters between Harry’s knee and Draco’s thigh, and Harry wondered what it would feel like to reach out and touch Draco’s skin. How would Draco react if he did, without warning? Harry wouldn’t dare to risk it, though. If Draco didn’t want to be with him for real, if they didn’t have a romantic future together, he didn’t want to take this step with him.

So Harry kept his hands to himself, but not his eyes. He watched Draco finish taking in his living room before turning back to Harry, smiling.

“I can imagine it must be really lonely not being able to see your friends for such a long time. How have you been coping?” Draco asked and Harry was surprised at that question.

“It’s been hard,” he said. “If I didn’t have you guys at the DRCMC, I’d probably have died of loneliness by now.

“It’s a shame they haven’t yet invented a potion or spell that makes new vampires able to mix well with people.” Draco looked apologetic. “When I came into my Veela inheritance, I was so freaked out at all the smells and pain, I didn’t leave the Manor for half a year.”

“Pain?” Harry asked, brows furrowing.

“It’s quite painful for Veelas to be touched by people that aren’t family, close friends, or someone they are interested in romantically. Especially in the beginning. Whenever I walked through a crowd, I felt like I was being stabbed.”

“That sounds awful,” Harry said truthfully. “How about now?”

Draco shrugged and looked away. “It’s better now but it still stings a bit. That’s why I always wear long robes or long coats around Muggles. Less surface to attack.”

“I had no idea,” Harry replied, thinking of the times when he’d touched Draco’s arm or hand in a friendly manner and suddenly feeling awful for having been unaware of the pain he’d been causing him. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you.”

Draco smiled, a little distressed. “You didn’t. Actually, there is something I have to tell you.”

Pulling his foot a little more under his butt, Harry didn’t take his eyes off of Draco as he started to chew on his lip a little. Harry tried to keep eye contact but failed because Draco was looking around nervously.

“What is it, Draco?” Harry asked, worried. He reached out, wanting to put his hand on Draco’s to calm him down a little, but then he remembered that maybe he shouldn’t. 

Or maybe he could, because apparently his touch didn’t hurt Draco?

Harry was at a loss, his hand held up awkwardly between the two of them. Draco looked at it, teeth still pressing into his bottom lip and his heel taping the ground until he suddenly reached forward and took Harry’s hand, entwining their fingers between their bodies.

Wide-eyed, Harry watched Draco’s nails bore between his knuckles, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

“This is what I was trying to tell you,” Draco said as if it would explain everything. He stared at Harry, waiting for his reaction.

But Harry… didn’t get it.

“You… want to hold my hand?” Harry asked, confused, but he still squeezed Draco’s hand in his because he didn’t want him to think that he didn’t like it. Draco, on the other hand, sighed.

“No, I mean that I can touch you without it hurting, and,” he paused and swallowed, looking intently at Harry, “you’re not my family and, well, we aren’t technically friends. So.”

“So?” Harry asked, not really getting what Draco was getting at and also a little sad to hear that Draco didn’t think of him as a friend. Harry thought that during the past few months they had grown very close. Even if Harry had thought of Draco as perhaps more than a friend, it didn’t mean that he hadn’t wanted Draco to be a friend as well.

“Merlin, Potter, come on.” Draco sounded annoyed but also desperate. “What did I just tell you? Touching people hurts Veelas but not when it’s our family, friends, or...?”

“Or someone they are interested in romantically,” Harry repeated, because of course he remembered what Draco had said literally less than five minutes ago, but it still wasn’t apparent to Harry what Draco meant.

Until, that was, suddenly Harry was very aware of Draco’s intense scent again.

“Romantically,” Harry said again and really looked at Draco, at his eyes flashing unsure. “Are you saying that  _ you  _ are romantically interested in  _ me _ ?” He asked, stating the question he now realised had been the obvious answer to this whole situation. To their whole relationship. To Draco spending Christmas Eve with him. 

Draco was also interested in him. Despite Harry not being his one true love. Despite Harry being a vampire. Despite everything, Draco wanted to be with Harry.

“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

“But,” Harry started. Draco licked his lips nervously, looking a bit uncertain at Harry’s reaction. “Since when?”

Draco paused and looked down at his lap before he said, “I knew for sure when you spoke in my favour at my trial after the war.”

“Your trial,” Harry repeated and then almost fell out of his seat. “That was ten years ago!” Harry shouted in absolute disbelief at the outcome of this situation. How could Draco not have not told him sooner?

In almost a whisper Draco explained, “I didn’t think you would ever want me back.” His voice sounded like it hurt him to say it. “I was convinced there was no way that you would ever be interested in someone like me. And then after I came into my Veela inheritance, I thought the only reason you could ever want me was because of me being a Veela. Because that’s why everybody falls in love with me! They don’t really want  _ me _ , Harry. They want my pheromones to make them feel good.” There was anger in his voice now, as he squeezed Harry’s hand a little too hard for his comfort. “And especially with you, I wouldn’t have been able to take finding out that you only like me for that reason as well. Or even worse, be rejected by you. Which is why I never approached you first. Because rejection is hard on Veelas. It took me so long to get over you rejecting me during first year. I still hadn’t come into my inheritance then and wasn’t even interested in you but you so plainly rejected me as a person, it really hit a nerve. Took me seven years and a war to forgive you, after all.”

"So, you just—" Harry was at a loss for words. On the one hand, of course, he felt his insides tingle at Draco confessing his interest in him, but on the other hand it seemed like all of his worries over the past few months could have been prevented if Draco had just been honest with him. Nothing really mattered as long as they wanted each other. It didn’t matter if they weren’t destined to be together by some  _ one true love _ Veela crap. For now, the only things that mattered were their potential feelings for each other, their intentions towards one another, and it seemed like they both wanted this, wanted to try being together.

Really, if Harry thought about it, maybe the two of them could have been a happy couple for years by now if Draco had revealed this to Harry sooner. If he had sought out contact with him sooner. If he hadn't let Harry’s unfortunate fate decide.

If Harry hadn't turned into a vampire and consequently started working at the DRCMC, would they have ever gotten together? Or would Draco have taken his secret to the grave?

"What about you?" Draco asked, throwing Harry off of his train of thought. "How do you feel? I mean, I'm pretty sure I know but it would still be nice to hear you  _ say  _ it." There was a smirk on Draco's lips but he was only pretending to be confident, Harry knew him well enough by now to be able to tell.

“Well, to be honest, there was always something about you that just made me go insane. When I think about it, Hermione and Ron have always claimed that I was obsessed with you, even while at Hogwarts.”

“Have they now?” Draco asked, the smirk spreading into a grin as he leaned his face on the arm he had slung around the back of the sofa. ”I did notice you were always staring at my arse when you followed me around during sixth year.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “You were so thin that year, there was literally nothing there to look at.”

“Lies. You still can’t take your eyes off me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your hungry gaze following me all around the office.” 

Harry felt Draco’s nails press into his hand again. 

He didn't really know what to do with the turmoil of feelings he was having. Was he supposed to be angry at Draco for keeping this a secret for so long? For playing him like that? Maybe. But Harry felt the giddy emotions starting to overpower all the negative ones, especially at the prospect of what else could happen between them. Today. 

Squeezing Draco's hand back, Harry closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, Draco’s scent filled him with calm—and a little bit of lust.

He heard Draco exhale in what seemed to be relief, before the Veela said, “I thought you’d find out that I want you immediately when I heard you’d been turned into a vampire. Because of the smell, you see.”

Harry’s eyes flew open, “So  _ that’s _ why you smell so damn good! It's not your blood?"

“Veelas seclude pheromones to attract their love interest. Humans can’t smell that. Vampires can. It’s pretty common knowledge.” Draco laughed and then relaxed a bit more before he pulled their entwined fingers towards his mouth. “Remember the first time you came to our department? The first thing you said when you came through the door to my office was ‘ _ What’s that smell?’ _ ” Draco sighed and Harry felt his hot breath against his cold hand, making his cock twitch and his mouth pool with saliva as he imagined what Draco’s breath would feel like elsewhere. 

“Will you believe me when I tell you that back then I had even less of a clue about Veelas than I have now?” Harry joked and Draco chuckled, finally pressing his lips to the back of Harry’s hand. They were so soft and warm. A spark went through Harry's whole body.

“The last time I kissed someone I was 16,” Draco said and then his piercing eyes looked at Harry through heavy lids. His mouth moved against Harry’s hand, and he snorted. “And it was a girl. So, that was a disaster.”

“Parkinson?” Harry asked, out of breath even though they hadn’t even done anything yet. “I remember you were dating her for a while.”

“Yes, her. It was dreadful. She hates me to this day.”

“Draco,” Harry almost whispered then. He’d grown very very horny in a very short amount of time. “Why are we talking about Pansy Parkinson?”

“Because if I don’t distract myself, I will go completely crazy.”

“Then do,” Harry breathed and it wasn’t a second later that Draco pulled at his hand, hard, and Harry fell forward, their bodies crashing together, opened mouths searching for each other.

It felt like they were fighting rather than kissing and stroking. Draco’s hands were harsh on Harry’s body as he tore at his bow tie and braces to get them out of the way. Draco’s lips sucked on his mouth, opening and closing hungrily, and Harry felt sharp teeth bore into his lips. He gasped in pain but also pleasure because they were _his_ _Veela’s_ teeth and Draco was trying to devour him after having wanted him for years.

“Stop me,” Draco growled and his voice didn’t sound like his voice anymore, but there was a kind of urgency in it that told Harry that he needed to force himself to listen well. “Stop me now if you think you can’t handle me. I—” Draco bit down hard on his lip and Harry moaned out loud, feeling the nerve endings in his mouth tingle with pleasure as they recognised the bite coming from his love, “—I’ve been waiting for so long.”

And then Draco ripped, hard, one more time, and the buttons of Harry’s shirt popped off in all directions. Draco’s eyes turned completely black, the lack of icy grey almost frightening. They were pinned to Harry’s now naked upper body, his pink tongue licking his lips before he looked up at Harry, and Harry lost his breath at the intensity of his stare. 

“My love,” Draco said, more like a moan, and it sounded like his voice was coming from somewhere far away. It made Harry feel like he was losing complete control over his own mind, his body screaming with the need to get closer, to touch, to fuck Draco,  _ his love,  _ until there was no doubt that they belonged together. That they were each other’s everything.

Harry only noticed that his fangs had extended when he opened his mouth to flex them at the sight of Draco’s pale throat after he had hurriedly undone the clasp around his neck and let his robes fall to the ground. Then Draco got up to step out of the rest of the clothes and though he was probably undressing in record time, seeing that he was wearing a many-layered traditional set of wizarding robes, Harry felt like it was taking much too long. But then, finally, Draco was naked, and as he stood beside the sofa, he touched his braid with one hand and pulled at the hair band, his thick silver hair falling into his face and across his shoulders, hiding the spot where Harry’s eyes had been drawn to up until now.

With the distance between them, the creature in Harry calmed a little and he was able to fully take in Draco Malfoy, naked, in front of him, waiting.

“Aren’t we going too fast?” Harry verbalized what the still-sane part of his mind was thinking. 

He swallowed the salvia he was producing in mass at the sight of Draco’s perfectly pale, lean body. Not in his wildest dreams had Harry imagined that Draco looked like this—and boy did Harry dream! Imagination was all he had with Draco always wearing too many damn clothes, always wearing those frustratingly veiling wizarding robes that never revealed anything about his actual size or shape. How Harry hated wizarding fashion.

But he had been sure that Draco was hiding slender long legs and a sexy broad back underneath those robes, as well as a trail of silver hair leading down to his crotch and silver curls around his nipples. And, of course, defined hip bones that Harry had imagined grabbing hold of while pounding into Draco. 

Harry had imagined doing a lot of things to Draco. He had imagined him in all kinds of shapes. But he hadn’t imagined  _ this _ . 

_ Perfection _ .

“You don’t want this?” Draco asked with a soft smile. His expression didn’t fit his words. Harry could see it in his eyes, that the Veela in him already knew Harry’s answer before he could even say anything, that he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want you right now,” Harry whispered truthfully.

As if on cue, Draco stepped forward. Harry watched him, almost in a trance, as he set one knee after the other on each side of Harry’s lap and then sat down, completely naked on top of Harry, who was still almost fully clothed.

And then, Draco said, in that almost growl that made Harry wonder where the hell it came from, “Touch me”. 

Harry instantly obeyed. His hands snapped forward to touch Draco’s sides and though it shouldn’t have felt like much to either of them, Draco’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth opened in a long moan.

“ _ More _ .”

Harry’s fingers grasped soft, warm skin as he roamed his hands over Draco’s body, and he was sure he was leaving bruises. Nothing could stop him, though, now that he had his lap full of the man he’d been unable to get out of his head for months. Or years. Honestly, now that Harry thought about it, had he ever stopped thinking about Draco Malfoy? He had definitely been thinking about him those past few months. But if Harry thought back even longer, he could remember seeing his silver hair peek out from somewhere in the Ministry and wonder how he was, what had become of him, a thought he’d often taken home, pondered over while he was cooking, taking a shower, or while he’d been unable to fall asleep at night. Harry had wanted to check up on him many times; he’d even thought of reasons to approach Malfoy, get to know him for real this time. But something had always stopped him. Fear maybe. Fear of breaking the unspoken truth between them, of going back to hating each other. Because at least when they weren’t talking, Draco wouldn’t hate him.

"Harry, please, more."

"Where do you want me to touch you?" Harry breathed against Draco's mouth after he’d leaned forward to press the length of his chest against Harry's, both of them shivering at the first touch of naked skin against naked skin.

"Everywhere."

Harry stopped trying to hold back. His hands moved to Draco's soft buttocks and he squeezed, massaging both cheeks before dipping his fingers into the crack. Draco made a little whiny sound and arched his back at Harry's touch. He pushed his arse towards Harry’s hands, as if trying to make the tips of Harry's fingers slip farther between his cheeks, touch the ring of muscle that Harry couldn't wait to bury himself inside.

Draco was breathing hard against his lips and he looked like he was about to come even though Harry had barely touched him yet. 

Harry had imagined this face so often, imagined fucking Draco until he couldn’t talk anymore, until he could only moan and beg for more. He’d tell Harry that he loved him and then he’d pull Harry down by his red and gold tie and smash their mouths together, their school robes tangled together on the floor next to Harry’s bed back in the Gryffindor dorm. 

"I want to fuck you hard," Harry said and if he had been in his right mind, he would have been surprised at the dangerous tone of his voice. He’d never been like this, this needy. He had never felt such all-consuming lust. It almost reminded him of the feeling he got whenever he smelled blood: in danger of losing control.

By biting down on Draco's lip, sucking it into his mouth and pulling away again, Harry forced himself to concentrate on holding back the wild images that were popping up in his mind. Of fucking Draco until he screamed. Of biting at that pretty little neck, of piercing his fangs into his carotid. Of sucking and sucking until— _ dangerous territory. _

Harry moved down, leaving kisses and licks on Draco's chest until he reached the left perky nipple and started licking at it with the tip of his tongue. "I want to hear you scream." He bit down then, and Draco shouted, his fingers pulling on Harry’s hair.

"Yeesss," Draco whimpered, enjoying Harry’s ministrations visibly as he let his head fall back again and tears formed at the corners of his tightly shut eyes. "More, Harry. I need more." Draco reached around his body then with one hand, taking Harry's fingers between his and guiding them so they finally touched his puckered entrance.

He’d imagined this so many times, sinking his fingers into Draco’s hole as he’d pulled himself off in the locker room showers after Quidditch. He’d leaned against the wall, one hand working his cock, the other slipping between his cheeks, imagining that he was feeling Draco up instead of himself, curling his fingertips against Draco’s prostate, making him moan against his neck as he leaned against him, coming hard against Harry’s chest.

Harry felt Draco's muscles relax against his fingertips and he used the opportunity to slip his middle finger inside Draco, up to the first knuckle, apparently completely unexpectedly, because Draco made a sound of surprise at the feeling and then moaned in approval.

Harry’s lips closed around the pink nub as he started stroking the tip of his finger against Draco's inner walls, surprised to find it a little slick and feeling it ooze out around his finger.

"Are you getting wet?" Harry asked in wonder, using some of the fluid to slip a second finger inside Draco easily.

"It's a Veela thing. Please don't stop."

"I wasn't going to," Harry purred and then moved his head to pay some attention to the other nipple. 

As Harry fingered him, Draco began to rub his hard length against the bulge still trapped in Harry's pants. It frustrated Harry as he wasn't in a position to do anything about it, his hands and mouth busy pleasuring Draco.

"Let me." As if he could read Harry's mind, Draco opened Harry's trousers and pulled his pants down as fast as possible, letting Harry's already leaking cock jump free. "Oh, Harry.”

Harry pulled his head back at Draco's reaction and watched him stare down at Harry's penis in what looked like concerned wonder.

"What is it?" He looked down at himself, finding the head of his cock glistening pink, a drop of precum sitting on it like a pearl. Draco was staring at it, licking his lips.

"I want you. Right now." And then Draco pulled forward so that Harry's fingers slipped out of the loosened muscle of Draco's arse. "Help me, Harry,” Draco said, positioning himself above Harry's cock and holding it against his hole. 

Harry did help by guiding the head of his dick in a better position and then he said, voice hoarse in anticipation, "sit."

Draco sat. Slowly. Like he’d done so many times in Harry’s mind, during the past few months, during the last years, since that first time Harry had watched Draco get out of the shower after a Quidditch match during their fourth year.

When Harry felt the first press against his dick, he almost came just because the sudden sensation of being connected with the person he’d been pining after for over a decade made him feel all hot inside, his cock twitching as the ring of muscle slowly stretched for him. Draco moaned and slid faster down and Harry couldn't help but rip his mouth open in quiet pleasure as Draco's warm, wet heat engulfed him centimetre by centimetre. It was so tight but still slippery and Harry knew immediately that he had never felt this good before, this complete.

"Ride me," Harry said in a low voice he didn't know he was even capable of.

Draco, who had had his eyes fixed on Harry's the whole slide down, breathed out a long and sinful, "Yeessss," before pushing himself up and then sinking down again.

Draco's arms wrapped around Harry's neck and Harry's hands came to squeeze his arse cheeks again, pulling them apart and squeezing them together around his own cock, leaving Draco's penis completely untouched. However, Draco didn't seem too concerned by that as he quickened the pace of his thrusts and pressed his open mouth against Harry's temple. 

His mind filled with images and memories of his past, times when Harry had thought about Draco and then afterwards told himself that they were just fantasies and that they didn’t mean anything. But they had meant something. They meant that he wanted  _ this _ .

Harry didn’t move at first, wanting to let Draco control the pace, but as his Veela rode him faster, sliding down harder on his cock as if searching for the kind of friction he wasn’t able to achieve on his own, Harry decided to finally start moving. 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and then pushed with the soles of his feet on the carpet. Finally, in just the right position, he began pistoling his hips up and down, sliding in and out of Draco with such force that it made the other man scream and whine at once. It sounded like it was too much for the Veela, like he couldn’t take the speed or force, but then, when Draco arched his back and made a high pitched sound, Harry knew he was giving him exactly what he wanted.

"Yes yes yes," Draco shouted, clawing into the shirt on Harry's back. "There, don't stop, right there!"

Harry didn't want to stop, but he felt his orgasm approaching, and the twitching of Draco's muscles around his cock told Harry that Draco was about to come, too.

As much as he was trying to hold back, Harry found himself trying even harder to keep the pace up, chasing that indescribable pleasure he was starting to feel when he finally came.

Draco's arse milked him dry as Harry moaned out loud, shooting his load deep inside of his lover’s quivering arse. Draco came only a few seconds later, his cock still completely untouched but shooting streaks of white against Harry's chest.

Harry was still holding on to Draco when he fell back onto the loveseat. They both panted, feeling the heat radiating off of each other. Harry wanted to enjoy the moment, let his mind run free as he felt his love close for the first time in his life, but he couldn’t help but chuckle as he realised how long he’d wanted this and how stupid he’d been all his life, trying to tell himself that what he wanted didn’t mean anything. It had always meant something, Harry had just been too caught up in the drama of his life to get it.

It had always been Draco. 

They stayed in that position for a while. Harry hadn't pulled out yet but he was getting soft slowly and it was only a matter of time until he would slip out on his own. Strangely, Draco hadn’t said anything yet. Instead, as they both caught their breaths, he felt Draco starting to shower his neck and shoulder with kisses again.

Harry let Draco do whatever the Veela in him needed for reassurance. He stroked his silver hair while Draco continued kissing his body, clinging to him so hard that Harry’s shoulders were hurting under his grip. But there was no way he wanted this to stop. Feeling Draco express his feelings in such a small, intimate way, caused Harry to do something he really hadn’t planned. At least not on their first date.

“I love you,” he confessed to Draco. “I always have.”

Obviously, not having expected this, Draco halted his kisses. His face was hidden from Harry’s view, buried into the crook of his neck. Several seconds passed with Harry waiting nervously for Draco to say or do anything, when Harry finally felt something wet on his skin.

“Love,” Harry asked a little flustered, “Are you crying?”

Draco was completely silent, but his body was trembling and what Harry had identified as tears were running down his chest now. Harry felt completely devastated. Maybe it was his newly born instinct to make Draco happy—which Harry knew was only natural for a Veela’s partner—or maybe it was just Harry not being able to take the thought that he had something to do with making Draco cry, but his heart hurt and he needed to do something, anything to stop Draco from crying.

“Draco, talk to me. Did I hurt you?”

Finally, Draco shook his head, before he pulled away a little, and said, “No, you didn’t. I feel wonderful.” Though Draco’s eyes were a little red and his cheeks wet with tears, he looked genuinely happy. “I just realised that the thing I’ve wanted since I was a little boy has just come true.”

Confused, Harry sat his hands on Draco’s hips again and said with a crooked smile, “You’ve wanted me to fuck you since you were a little boy?”

A snort escaped Draco before he put his forehead against Harry’s and chuckled. “Idiot."

Harry wanted to protest but Draco shut him up by pressing his soft lips against Harry’s, snogging him slowly and passionately. It felt so right, so wonderful, so peaceful. With the lust and the urgency having been taken care of, Harry felt like he was floating on clouds. Draco’s tender tongue against his, the soft touch of Draco’s fingers behind his ears, made Harry almost forget that Draco still needed to tell him why he had been crying. 

Hating himself for having to stop this but also having to know what had caused his lover to cry, Harry pulled away, just a little. Their foreheads were still touching, two hot breaths becoming one.

He didn’t need to ask again, because Draco was licking his lips happily, beaming at Harry, and explained, “I wanted to be with my one true love.”

Harry felt his mind go blank for a second, shutting down at the sudden burst of happiness and love he was feeling for the first time in his life. It was an intensity he couldn’t comprehend, he hadn’t thought possible. 

_ He _ was Draco’s one true love. 

Not in a thousand years had he expected to to ever feel this kind of love. The kind of love one could feel in the marrow of one’s bones. The kind of love you have for someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, someone you want to protect at all costs, someone you want to hold tight and never let go, someone you want to shower with love and kisses and only ever see them happy. The kind of love that makes you unable to even look at another person, to even consider breaking up, to go even a minute without thinking about them. The kind of love that will finally make you understand why so much bad shit has happened to you before, because one person can only have so much happiness and if they were to get  _ this _ kind of love, only horror could balance it out. The kind of love that will have made going through hell worth it.

The kind of love that Harry had for Draco.

Draco’s intoxicatingly delicious scent suddenly made Harry snap back out of his thoughts and he gasped as a completely new wave of longing and arousal washed over him.

“What—” Harry started but when he felt Draco grinding against his hardening dick, he had to catch his breath, “—was that?”

“Sorry,” Draco moaned as he started to mouth at Harry’s neck again. “I just heard what you were thinking and it made me feel so much love for you.”

“Fuck, Draco, your scent makes me go completely bonkers,” Harry started, grabbing Draco by the arse again, about to suck his lip into his mouth, before he shouted, “What?”, and pulled back, the shock more intense than the arousal at that moment. “You  _ heard _ what I was  _ thinking _ ?”

“It’s another Veela thing,” Draco said for the tenth time that day with a dismissive swish of his hand, and then the fucker ground down again and Harry lost his train of thought. “You really need to read up on Veelas, Harry. You’re now bonded to one after all.”

“Right,” Harry said, already delirious with lust as his nostrils filled with Draco’s pheromones, the word  _ bonded _ making him urge for his partner in a primitive way. Growling, he let his fingers dip back into Draco’s wet heat. The Veela on top of him moaned in approval. 

“Oh, wait!" Harry suddenly remembered once more and his head snapped to the side to look at Draco. Draco was looking back at him, half crazed with lust, half annoyed at Harry for stopping again. "I just remembered, you brought your work suitcase. But... if you knew that this was supposed to be a date from the beginning, what the hell is inside your suitcase if not work documents?"

Draco looked surprised that Harry’d think to ask that question at that moment. But he couldn't hide the mischievous smirk that took over his face when he said with a wink, "A change of clothes, of course." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Kudos and comments make my day :)
> 
> This fanwork is part of the [HP Holiday Mini Fest](https://mini-fest.livejournal.com/), an on-going anonymous fest. The creator will be revealed at the end of the fest. Please show your appreciation for the creator by leaving a comment below. Thank you!


End file.
